


Fragmented

by shounen_to_satsujinsha



Category: The Simpsons
Genre: First Meetings, Gen, Implied Attraction, M/M, No Dialogue, No Romance, Obsession, One-Sided Attraction, Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 13:29:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21016553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shounen_to_satsujinsha/pseuds/shounen_to_satsujinsha
Summary: There is something so enticing about ironic coincidences, isn't there?





	Fragmented

On a day like any other, Robert Terwilliger was being taken, yet again, to one of the cells in the Springfield State Prison.

It was nothing out of the ordinary, as the man, so typically, had been caught yet another time, whilst attempting to murder the one Simpson boy he'd been hunting down for years.

Harsh and firm hands handled him roughly into the cell, he growled in response, as there was absolutely no need to do that, for Bob knew the routine and could walk into the cage just the same. These guards were probably new here, he figured.

But when he finally caught sight of the cell's bed, the carvings on the walls and got a whiff of that stuffy, jail air, it all merged into a perfect sense of recognition.

"Ah," he said contently. It was one of his older chambers, into which he wasn't brought often anymore; as of late, he'd always ended up in rather cramped spaces, where he'd get locked up and put in a straightjacket right away. The officers were clearly tired of his recurring escapades, but perhaps they had given up, for he would always find a way out regardless.

He casually sauntered around the dearly missed room, tracing a finger along the wall until it latched onto a secret panel, which he pulled out swiftly, in one motion, to reveal its hidden stash of pictures.

They were all of Bart, with his face crossed out or circled in blood, with his eyes gouged out, or his neck scratched in; various poems about his demise, or, simply, a looping phrase of "_DIE BART, DIE_" all over his smiling childish face.

Alas, it was the wrong cubby hole. Bob paid the contents hidden in there no mind as he locked the panel back in place, and continued his stroll along the wall in search for the one he was looking for.

Finally, he caught it. It was trickier to pull out, naturally, but it was no hard task for his long and skillful fingers. When Bob set the panel away, in the displayed hole appeared to be nothing. This, however, was fully expected, Mr. Terwilliger did not flinch, but instead reached his hand into it, and peeled off a single piece of paper, plastered against the side of the hole.

It was a photo, too, but this one was the most treasured piece in Bob's entire collection. He found it like any other — when rummaging through the Simpsons' photo albums in blind search for _Bart, Bart, Bart_ — but he did not expect, on one of the pictures, to find his own face.

It was taken a while ago. Bob wouldn't remember even if he was told the exact date — in those days, he, who still beared the name "Sideshow" rightfully, had to go through sequences of children's parties, had to be on a number of snapshots, even though the kids very much preferred to stand next to Krusty The Clown, as opposed to the _stupid_, mute Sideshow Bob.

This photograph showed the same story. It was evident by the little scrunched up face of the kid next to Bob, how his body language all but said: _I want Krusty, I don't want this whistling sideshow guy_; he was wearing some shoddy oversized blazer with a bow tie and shorts, and he was a five-year-old Bart Simpson.

Bob's own face had a facsimile of a dumb smile, the one he so adeptly could mimic at any time given, his _in-character _smile, an expression so fatuous, it was genius. He was dressed accordingly, the aborigine attire, and one of his arms hovered about the boy, not touching, imitating a squeeze of his shoulder.

Bob blew at the prized picture, ridding it from specks of dust that might've clinged, he smoothed out the edges, making sure that the rather faded image doesn't crease.

The smaller Bart glared at him, unbeknownst of the fact that it won't be the last time he does so, unknowing that the man beside him would eventually become his most dangerous enemy (or, is he? is he really Bart's "most dangerous"?); Bob's much younger and much saner self grinned at him idiotically, still a gleam of ambition somewhere deep down in those eyes, not yet wracked to pieces at the mercy of this innocent child by his side.

"Ah," Bob sighed, holding the tiny fragment of their past close to his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> I really didn't know what to name this nor how to summarizes this. Not sure if it was even worth posting — but I needed to get it off my chest before I grow resentful of it like I always do with my writings.


End file.
